


fairy bread

by ruruka



Category: Rocko's Modern Life
Genre: ive had this idea in my head for like a year :| finally made a good warmup.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	fairy bread

_“-will return after a word from our sponsors.”_

It’s a day like that. A sun blinking so boldly off the windows day that the TV screen is halfway white if he looks at it from the wrong angle, but from the right one, he marvels, squints at the television that’s _on,_ denoting this a day off from work day where he can sit and let the breath from his lungs, just relax, just _live_ for a few little hours that aren’t demanding his every last cell of attention. Day.

“ _BAHAHAHA,”_ breaks his eardrums from the seat on the couch just to the left. Cellophane crinkles. Light-seared eyes don’t blink. “Did you see that guy, Rock? He fell right off the building! _HAHAHA-_ man, these vitamin ads are getting creative.”

1990’s American television doesn’t offer much outside the occasional gem of animation, he’s found. Chin in a hand, Rocko watches with eyes half lidded, and he’s _bored,_ but _bored_ feels just blazing good, bored feels like dipping his brain in a hot bath and watching all the steam rise up and fog the bathroom mirrors, the whole long eased _ahhh_ and everything. Eyes shifted centermost, he’s smiling idly at the fantasy, though all at once blinks at another call of the naturally raucous voice beside him.

“Those plates are cool, but what the heck are they _eating?”_ Heffer says, lip curling and eyes squinting forward for a better look. “Is that...vanilla ice cream on sourdough?”

Rocko throws himself up to sitting straight and broadly does a grin poke all the teeth from his mouth. “Hey, that’s fairy bread! Wow! I didn’t think I’d ever see _that_ over here.”

Titling his head, Heffer stuffs down another handful of Pasture Puffies, brief advert already ended by the time he again speaks of it. “What’s fairy bread? Bread made by you?”

At their feet, Spunky rattles a hoarse little bark, panting up at the glance down his master offers. Rocko swivels his gaze back to the other. “No. But it’s _delicious_. Me mum used to make it all the time when I was little, see, you take a slice of white bread, cover it with butter, and pour hundreds and thousands on it, it’s really-”

“Hundreds and thousands of _what?!”_ Heffer yelps, to which Rocko pinches his brows together and mimes, “You know, those, eh, rainbow crunchy things you put on ice cream.”

“You mean sprinkles?” A thoughtful glance spares overhead. “Wait, you mean you eat _bread_ with butter and sprinkles on it? That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard of!”

“Well- y- you can use _margarine,_ if you like-” Rocko tries, suffocated instead by the laughter that explodes to his left. His mouth falls into a thin scowl that’s only healed once he hikes his dog up into both arms. “I’m telling you, it was a great snack. Spunky even liked it.”

Heffer laughs hard enough to double forward. The chip bag nudges off the couch and spills open on the floor, where Spunky’s jumped down and stuck his head inside, tail wagging, before the second is over. Newly freed arms fold over Rocko’s chest, huffing alongside the faint heat tiptoeing up his face.

“Alright, alright,” he tuts. “I don’t make fun of _your_ culture, do I? Stupid American football… You don’t even play it with your feet!”

“Oi, I gotta go get me thongs on and take a walk in the Outback, mate!” Heffer snickers. “Gotta give me mummy a big pash for cooking up all this fairy bread and Tim Tams.”

“What’s so funny about Tim Tams?!” Rocko shouts back.

Swallowing a guffaw, Heffer’s mouth warbles around smirking, “Nothing, Rocko, nothin’ at all…”

“And I’ll have you know, I do _not_ pash my mum,” he growls, pulling a pointing finger back to fold. “That’s just sick.”

“Okay, okay. _Jeez,_ you don’t have to get so mad.” Bending forward, Heffer picks the chip bag back up and shoves a hand inside. Spunky’s panting head pokes up from the cellophane, lapping wetly round his lips. “Hey, look, the show’s back on. I love this one, it’s got that really good twist at the end where the ghost is actually this big naked guy. It’s cinematic _genius_.”

All in one hush, Rocko rolls an exhale that leans him back into his spot on the couch, chin in a hand, brain matter returning to its relaxing, breathless soak.

(...He doesn’t really talk funny like that, right? Fingers tap the couch arm. No, no of course not. That’s just flaming galah stuff. Absolute boganry, strewth).


End file.
